Black and White
by Signora Ted
Summary: Delilah Sato is an FBI agent with a comfortable life. But then two odd brothers and a tag along pop up in the middle of one of her cases and suddenly her world is turned upside down. Between demons, ghosts, werewolves, and of course angels; Delilah feels lost. Where is her place in the world now? Apparently a certain angel knows the answer to that. Cas/OC
1. In Which There is a Hostage Situation

_**A/N: So I had this written a good while ago but never thought to put it up. But today I decided today was the day. So give this a little read please and if you want more please tell me in a review. I don't think I'll continue it otherwise.**_

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She opened her eyes and sighed. It was another day. Another damned boring day. Throwing back the purple duvet covers of her bed she swung her legs off to the side, resting her bare feet on the cold wooden floor. It was a chilly November morning; shivers going up her spine as she hurried to pull her worn dressing gown over her shorts and tank top pyjamas. She needed to do some shopping. Her wardrobe was getting ridiculous.

On auto-pilot, she dragged herself into her small, cramped kitchen and slammed the button on the kettle down, rooting in the cupboard above it for a jar of coffee. Once she had her brain juice made, she sat at her paper covered kitchen table, pressed play on her iPod speakers and turned up the volume. It was the only way, she had discovered, she could wake up properly enough to drive in the morning. Unfortunately for her neighbours, she had to get up at 7am for work. But who could they complain to? She was FBI.

Checking the time on her phone, she noticed it was half seven, and a string of curses flew from her mouth. Within ten minutes, she had her black hair brushed out to look somewhat presentable, and her work pants, blouse and blazer only looking barely wrinkled as she grabbed her bag and keys. As always, it was a bad start to the day.

Every day seemed to be bad the last few months. She would have a routine like most people did, but lately it was being taken to an extreme. Everything, literally _everything_, was the same every single day. She'd drive her crappy Mini to work, get stuck in her office with nothing but paper work all day, get home at six and then spend the evening on the couch with her cat and her new best friend known as beer. She had friends, sure, but they were both slightly occupied at the moment. Rachael was off doing book signings across the country while Jack's girlfriend had a baby and he was then nominated for mommy duty. So there was nothing for her to do with her time except hug a bottle of beer and watch old Buffy re-runs.

Except for tonight. Tonight she had decided that she was going to do something productive with her time and start back with her painting. Flicking the television onto the news channel to play in the background, she turned up the volume and tossed the remote onto the couch. While she was propping a small square canvas up onto her old easel, she faintly heard a newscaster speaking about a massacre in Carthage, Missouri. Curious, she picked up a bottle of paint and went in front of the television to get a glimpse of the news.

It looked horrible. All the women and children brutally murdered and the men all seemingly passed out, but dead. A whole town, and everyone was dead. How it was possible for someone to pull something like that off was beyond her. _Why _someone would do it was a whole other thing. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her cat knocking over her cup of coffee that she had placed on the floor.

"Lucifer, you asshole!" she yelled at the black cat, picking up a cushion and throwing it at him. "You do this on purpose!"

Growling, she put down the paint and got paper towels to mop up the spilt coffee. That damned cat had knocked over the cup on purpose. The little bastard went to great lengths to disrupt her life, yet she doted on him like he was her own child. She had just gotten the floor cleaned up and was just about to dip her brush into the deep blue paint when her phone rang. She took a sharp intake of breathe, looked down and then placed her painted utensils on the table.

"Yea?" she answered without looking at the caller ID. She cringed when she realised it was her superior.

"Ms Sato, we need you to report in immediately and take care of a situation. We've got a bank robbery with hostages being held. Head down to 14th Street NW straight away and we'll send a team down. This is on you now Delilah. Do your job."

She should've felt bad about feeling slightly excited but she couldn't help it. Finally she was getting some action, after months and months of just paper work.

Gearing up with her bullet proof vest under her blazer and her gun in its holster, she grabbed her badge and quickly locked up the apartment. She sprinted down the complex stairs and pushed through people as gently as she could without going at the pace of a snail. She eventually got to her yellow beat up Mini and jammed the keys into ignition, pulling out of the parking lot and heading down to the bank on 14th street.

"Agent Sato!" another agent yelled from a black van parked across the road from the bank.

It was dark now, lights from the ambulances and squad cars lighting up the area. Delilah jogged over to the van where they had set up surveillance and communication. There were two other agents in the van, the others outside, controlling civilians and watching the windows. Delilah pulled herself up into the back of the van and peered over Agent Thompson's shoulder at the laptop screen, which was showing camera footage from earlier and also a window at the side with the suspects' info.

"They're the Winchester brothers, ma'am." Thompson told her, disbelief in his voice, eyes slightly wide. "They're supposed to be dead. Why would they pull something like this if they were trying to be dead?"

Delilah shook her head, not really paying attention to the other agent, her focus more on the faces of the two men on the police record sheet. They're crime history was bizarre to say the least; extremely random and weird. She had heard about them before, how they would casually claim that they were in fact fighting some sort of supernatural being. Dean, she thought it was, was the one who was so casual about his accusations that it was sick to think about it. It was like he didn't see anything wrong with it. And the grave desecrations? Delilah didn't think she even wanted to know what was going on in his mind. But it did all seem a bit weird. Either both brothers were insane or there was something else going on.

"Have you made contact with them yet?" she asked Thompson, returning from her own mind.

"No, not yet. We've been calling the phones around the building but so far nobodies picked up. We've still got video feed from the security cameras for some reason. We've no idea why they haven't gotten rid of them by now."

"Probably want us to see them in action," she said bitterly, feeling sicker and sicker.

She sat down at one of the tables and started zipping through the security cameras, trying to find a trace of life on the other end. She was near throwing something at the floor when the phone called. She motioned to Jenkins, the other agent who was with them, to record the call and track it to which phone they were calling from.

"This is Agent Sato," she said calmly, hoping that maybe it was a hostage.

"Th-the FB-BI?"

Delilah let out a sigh of relief. Hearing a hostage was always a good sign.

"Yes, miss, can you tell what is going on? Is anyone hurt?"

There was a sniffing and a small sobbing sound on the other end of the line before the poor woman replied.

"There's t-two men here with guns w-who're the ones holding us b-but there's a-another two men h-here and they're t-trying to stop them and h-help us,"

Delilah was surprised and annoyed at the same time. People playing heroics were just going to get others killed. It wouldn't end well for anyone.

"Listen to me, I know it's hard but you have to stay calm. Can you describe the two men that are holding you? Is one quite tall and longish brown hair and the other shorter with short brown hair?"

"W-what?" There was a sound of confusion from the woman.

"N-no, they're the ones h-helping us. The other men, t-they're ch-ch-"

Delilah's stomach clenched at the sound of silence on the other line.

"Miss? Miss, are you still there?"

Silence.

"Shit," she said as she slammed the phone down and turned the swivel chair around to face Thompson.

"Did you find where the call was coming from? Did you get live feed from it?"

He gave her a nod and moved away from the laptop to let her look in. Maybe it would clear up the confusion that was now clouding her mind. The Winchesters were helping? No, this was not right. Leaning against the table surface, she looked closely at the footage. The woman was there, maybe in her early thirties and pregnant, and she was on her own. She spoke into the phone for a minute or two before a man appeared behind her, took her in his arms and then disappeared again. Delilah blinked and scrunched her eyebrows together. The man _literally_ appeared, out of thin air. And then just disappeared again. No, she said to herself, she was seeing things. She played it back five times before giving up and accepting that she was seeing what was really on the footage.

She showed it to Thompson and Jenkins, just to be sure that it wasn't just her, but they saw it as well and were as equally as puzzled.

"Ma'am, maybe there was a malfunction with the camera? This can't be right, it's not possible."

"I don't know, Jenkins. But whatever happened, we can't be sure that woman is okay. We have to get in touch with those suspects. Keep checking the footage for movement from them."

It wasn't long before Thompson blurted out that he saw the Winchesters and they were beside a phone. They were on their own, each carrying a gun and what looked like a machete. Delilah looked at them confused. How were these men protecting the hostages? They were so well prepared with their weapons. Putting aside their records, they'd still look ridiculously suspicious.

Picking up the phone and taking a deep breath, she dialled the number Jenkins had brought up onto his laptop screen and waited for them to pick up. She watched them on the screen, Dean pausing and looking at the phone and frowned, looking like he was contemplating. He said something to Sam and looked back at it, and then surprising everybody in the van, he picked up the phone and looked straight up at the security camera.

"Hello," came his deep voice over the phone.

Delilah was momentarily shocked as she stared at his face looking at her through the screen but got her wits back together, remembering she was the one responsible for all those people.

"This is Agent Delilah Sato with the FBI, who it I'm speaking to?"

"Hi, Delilah. I'm assuming you already know who I am so I'm not going to try to lie," came his confident reply. She could see his almost cheerful smirk on the screen. It was making her feel uncomfortable.

"And I know this is the part where you're going to ask me what I want and why we're doing this and if anyone's hurt and all that jazz but the truth is that we're _not_ doing this? Do you hear me? We're being framed, okay? Now if you can just get all your friends to stand down for a bit, we can sort out this situation and get these hostages out alive, kepis?"

Jenkins and Thompson turned to look at Delilah, mouths hanging open. She, herself, was staring at the man who had yet to look away from the camera, an intense look still on his face.

"Dean," she heard in the background, "We gotta go. It's further ahead now."

The older Winchester eventually broke away from the camera but quickly looked back at it to say one last thing.

"You want these hostages to get out alive, you give us an hour. Okay?"

"I can't do that. Just tell us what you-"

But she didn't even get to finish her demand before he hung up, slamming the phone down onto the wall and glancing at the camera as he picked up his machete, following his brother up the hallway.

"Ma'am?" Jenkins asked, a look of complete hopelessness on his face. Thompson had that look too.

They had seen it on Dean's face. They had heard it. The Winchesters sounded incredibly sincere, convinced maybe. Dean sounded like he was determined for these hostages, but it didn't make sense. None of it added up. Frustrated, she stood up and grabbed her blazer from the back of the chair where she had hung it up earlier on and stepped out of the van.

"Keep an eye on the phone and the video feed. I'm going out to check with the guys outside and try make sense of these two crazies."

Before she went over to the squad cars to ask about the activity they'd been monitoring, she went behind the van and leaned against it, messaging her temples and closing her eyes.

"You must give them time."

She looked up with a fright to see a man standing in front of her. He had come from nowhere. It was then she realised he was the man that had vanished on the security camera footage beforehand.

He looked strangely out of place with himself, as if he wasn't quite comfortable in his own skin. He was standing awkwardly in front of her, his arms hanging limply at his sides, making him look a little slouched. The tan trench coat that was covering his simple black suit flutter at its ends in the wind, emphasising just how still and stiff he was standing. It was the stern look that graced his dark features that gave Delilah the hebejebes more than anything. It was like he was staring a hole in her forehead, his eyebrows scrunched together and his lips pressed together in a frown. And there, above and around his head, she saw it. The glowing light; the damned light she used to see when she was a child. The light that had her dumped in a child psychologist's room for seeing hallucinations. That was enough to send her into panic. The only thing that relaxed her about him was the dark scruffy hair on his head that looked like it hadn't been looked after in a week. It almost made her laugh, just how much it contrasted with everything else that he had going on. But she didn't laugh. She was distracted by being freaked out.

"Jesus Christ!" She yelped, a brief flicker of fear flashing across her face. Any normal person would have felt the same.

"No, my name is Castiel," he replied in a monotone voice.

She blinked at him.

"How did you… get here? You were the guy in the bank? You took that woman away from the phone."

"Yes," he said, looking away from Delilah and gazing into the distance. "I am an angel of the lord."

She blinked again, not quite sure how he expected her to react to this statement. But for some reason, she didn't find herself thinking it was ridiculous.

"Who is it really holding the people hostage, then? It's not the Winchesters, is it?"

The supposed angel looked back at her, still frowning, but this time more of a confused frown if there ever was one.

"You believe me? Most times when I reveal who I am I get less than helpful responses. It's quite frustrating."

He tilted his head as he looked at her more intently, making her even more uncomfortable.

"I…well… I don't know. I just do. Lots of unusual things are happening and it just seems… I don't know. What's really going on?"

Castiel paused as he was searching her face, obviously pondering on what he was about to say. There was something else he wasn't saying as well.

"The Winchesters are being framed once again. It seems the race of shape shifters enjoy making them suffer at the hands of the human law."

A bubble of laughter came from the bottom of Delilah's throat and her hand went to her mouth in hope of stopping it from being heard.

"What's so amusing?" the angel asked, confused again.

"I just… It's a lot to take in, okay? Just… If I help stall the rest of the FBI, will I regret it? Are they really good men?"

The angel looked at her properly for the first time before answering her in the most honest voice she had ever heard.

"Had Sam not released Lucifer from his cage, others would have classified him as a good man. Dean also, had he not submitted to Alistair in hell. However they are my friends and I have seen the good they do every day. They give their lives to stop the spawn of evil that roams this earth; have saved more human lives than I believe my own kind have. So yes, I consider them to be good men."

Shell shocked probably would have been a good term for Delilah to use in this situation. The angel bewildered her; it was like he didn't realise things he was saying were unknown to her, and he acted as if she already acquainted with all these apparent recent events. No wonder he looked out of place. This guy was completely socially awkward.

"Lucif-…he- what? I'm-No I'm not going to try to understand what's going on. I'll do my best to stall the situation. Just t-tell the guys to hurry up with whatever they're doing, okay?"

The angel gave her a curt nod and disappeared again before her eyes. She squeezed them shut and opened them again, just to make sure her sight was alright. Deciding all was good, she shook her head and went back into the van, forgetting completely about the officers outside. Right now, she had a job to do.


	2. In Which Tales are Told

_**A/N: New chapter! Thanks for the reviews, favs and follows guys. You know how to make a writer's day :') Enjoy!**_

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It wasn't long before Jenkins and Thompson sensed something was up. Delilah had been acting strange; working her way slowly, extremely slowly through footage and the like, not yelling at them to hurry up at what they were doing. It was if she didn't want to help, didn't want to catch the Winchesters. The guys knew better than to question their superiors but this was just wrong. They exchanged glances behind Delilah's back before Thompson cleared his throat to gain her attention.

"What is it, Thompson?" she asked bluntly, not even looking up from the laptop screen where she was flicking through the Winchesters' documents with a frown on her face. She had been looking through the same pages for half an hour.

"Ma'am what are we doing? We've been here four hours and we've made no progress. How is us just sitting here helping? Not to criticize you or anything, ma'am, but you don't seem focused at all. What the hell happened? You're not really giving them the hour they asked for, are you?"

Delilah looked up from the screen but didn't turn around to face the other agents. She was rooting in her head, trying to come up with something to tell them that wouldn't make her look like an irresponsible agent. This could cost her, her job, and that was everything at the moment.

"This guys are extremely dangerous, boys. They've done this before and gotten away; making us all thinking they were dead. All I'm doing is trying to think this through so we get them for good this time, okay? We'll get these bastards, just give me ten more minutes and then we'll try contact again."

She groaned internally, cursing her own words. All she could do was pray that they would sort it all out before the ten minutes were up. Why she had gotten herself into this, she didn't know. If she was an intelligent person, she would have told Castiel and Dean to go to hell; that they were insane and she was going to lock them all up for grand theft and murder. But no, she _had_ to be an open minded person.

Glancing at her watch every two minutes, she started getting anxious. If they didn't come out in a minute she'd have to get back into action. The Winchesters had eventually blown the cameras so now they were stuck twiddling their thumbs until she gave them a heads up. Jenkins and Thompson were looking at her expectantly; agents outside starting to get confused and annoyed at the lack of progress. And then, she let out a sigh of relief when she spotted the doors of the bank opening and people beginning to stream out.

Thompson let out a whoop and high fived Jenkins in a completely childish manner, and soon looked away sheepishly when he felt Delilah's eyes looking down at him with amusement. She hopped out of the van and jogged over to the crowd of hostages, trying to spot the Winchesters. Finding herself a bit relieved to see that they were gone, she rubbed her forehead and went inside to check out the area with the rest of the agents. Sure enough, there was no trace of the Winchesters and instead two bodies of blond twin brothers, a silver bullet in each of their hearts. Another crime to add to their record, Delilah thought with a smirk, feeling sorry for the guys.

Once the area had been cleaned up and forensics had picked up samples of the strange skin dumped in some of the hallways, the hostages had been interviewed and taking to the hospital with their families.

Delilah only arrived back at her apartment at two in the morning, with the joy of paper work to look forward to in the morning. Kicking off her shoes and pulling off her blazer, she sat down on the bed to take off her vest and blouse. She had only just gotten the vest off and laid out on the bed when she heard a sound in the kitchen. She froze before quickly throwing the vest back on over her head and taking her gun into her hand from its holster. Quietly, she tip toed through the hall and towards the sitting room and kitchen. Before she could even reach the sitting room door, a voice made her jump back in fright.

"Hello,"

It was Castiel. Standing beside him was Dean, and another man who Delilah assumed was Sam. Sam looked apologetic for some reason, while Dean looked like he really did not want to be there. They were wasting time apparently.

"What the _hell_ do you want?" she hissed, lowering her gun and instead shooting them with a glare.

"Sam insisted we come and make sure you were well," the angel continued, beginning to look at Delilah strangely, his head tilted to the side.

"Uh, well thanks," she replied, walking over and placing her gun and vest onto the back of the couch. She was fully aware of Castiel's eyes still burning into the back of her head with the look of confusion and fascination. He was starting to freak her out.

"Do you guys, um, want anything? You must be tired."

"No, angels do not require sleep."

Delilah narrowed her eyes at Castiel and rolled them.

"I wasn't just talking to you, Fluffy,"

Sam snorted at the confused and offended look on Castiel's face after Delilah's remark.

"Well I just wanted to come and say thanks. I dunno about Dean but I was pretty thankful for some extra time."

She gave Sam a small smile as her eyes flickered over to Castiel's face. He was still staring at her. Dean obviously noticed his intense stare as well and looked the angel up and down from the side.

"Uh, Cas? What are you look-"

But before he could finish, Castiel strode forward and placed a hand on Delilah's ribs, white light exploding from his palm. The pain took Delilah by shock and she stumbled backwards, Castiel's other hand coming around to hold her around the waist so she would fall away from the hand on her ribs.

"What the _fuck?_" she yelled, cringing at the pain. Just as Castiel finished what he was doing, there was a last burst of pain, causing Delilah to let out a strangled cry.

"What the hell, Cas?" Dean exclaimed, coming around behind Delilah to hold her steady. "She didn't need-"

Again he didn't get to finish what he was saying. There had been a gasp outside Delilah's front door and then a banging as it was kicked down. She turned her head around too fast, the world spinning a little from the pain, but she was able to make out who the figure was. Thompson.

"Delilah!" he exclaimed, pulling out his gun and grabbing her out of Dean's arms. She let out a muffled 'ow' that nobody else heard as she was passed roughly between the two men.

Thompson had his gun trained on Dean, then moved it to Sam, then quickly to Castiel, looking at the angel as if he was thinking, 'and who the fuck are you?'.

"You bastards got away with too much before and tonight was the last straw!" he yelled, his grip on Delilah's waist hard enough to cause bruising.

She struggled out of his right arm, trying to knock the gun out of his hand. The vibrations from whatever Castiel had done to her still had her in a daze. With one final shove she escaped from his grasp and punched him in the face, snatching the gun from his hand as he fell backwards. She chucked it over to Sam before trying to heave Thompson up of the floor.

"Lilah… I knew it… I knew it," he said, looking up at her with betrayal.

She clenched her teeth and dropped her hands away from him and walked over to stand by the Winchesters and the angel.

"John, these men are innocent, contrary to popular belief. Just believe me, please?"

Thompson looked up at her and stuck his hand inside his jacket, taking out his phone. Without breaking eye contact with her, he dialled a number and held it to his ear.

"This is Agent John Thompson, reporting two known fugitives and a rogue agent at Lily Square Avenue, Neville's Apartment Block, no 15. Ms Delilah Sato, agent in the Violent Crimes and Major Theft division. Yes, I am here with them. I'll stay until back up arrives."

He closed his phone and put it back in his pocket, looking at Delilah with sad eyes.

"Why, Delilah? Why?"

She opened her mouth to answer him, not knowing what she was actually about to say but she was stopped by the sound of feathers ruffling behind her. Thompson was staring behind her, mouth wide open, finger pointing in the general direction. Almost afraid to turn around and see what the hell they had done now, Delilah slowly turned on her heel to see nothing there. Nothing.

"Fucking _assholes_!" she snapped at the air where they had just been.

She turned back to see Thompson looking at her, mouth still open.

"Right okay. I know, I'm fucked."

* * *

She had been in the interrogating room for two hours. Two whole hours. She calculated that it was at least four in the morning at this point and she was not happy. In fact, she was pissed. She was pissed and tired and annoyed. They had been asking, "Where did they go?", "How did you get in contact with them?", "Where are they going to strike next?" She had gone blue in the face telling them over and over again that she did not know and that she didn't even know them. But of course they didn't believe her. She wouldn't have believed her. So when she was left alone in the room for the first time in the two hours, she did the one thing that she had wanted to do since she had gotten taken in.

"Castiel, you angelic dick!" she yelled at the ceiling, hoping that maybe his angel senses would pick up her insult wherever he was. Of course she hadn't really thought it would have worked.

"I don't understand why you're angry with me," came a voice from behind her.

She flipped around in her seat to see him standing behind, arms limp at his side as usual, his almost always present frown on his face.

"You don't understand?" she began, not even thinking about how ludicrous the whole situation was and how she would explain it if an officer walked in. She was too focused on telling the damned angel off.

"Well let me see. See Castiel, when a human gets arrested for something, it's never really a pleasant experience. You should ask Sam and Dean; I'm pretty sure they know the feeling. And well, when someone _ditches _you while they go off scot free, that can cause a little tension in the relationship. So do you _understand?_"

He looked at her blankly, not knowing how to react to this situation without angering her more. He took a hesitant step towards her chair and placed a hand on the back on it, looking down at her.

"I am sorry for causing you inconvenience. The Winchesters were of a higher priority at the time."

Frustrated beyond belief, Delilah threw her hands up in the air and looked up at Castiel, nostrils flaring in an unattractive manner.

"Inconvenience? _Inconvenience?_ This will cost me my job! I'll go to jail! This has ruined my life! This is not an inconvenience for me boyo, this is a life changing catastrophe!"

Had she not been extremely angry, Delilah probably would have laughed. Castiel's whole demeanour had changed, his frown disappearing and instead a nervous, slightly terrified look appeared; his eyes going wide and looking around the room. He was obviously not used to being wrong and fixing his mistakes properly. Or maybe it was just because she was an angry woman.

"I-uh-ah-I apologise, Ms Sato. Perhaps it was wrong of me to leave-"

"Perhaps? _Perhaps?_" she snapped, cutting him off.

He squeezed his eyes shut, realising he had approached the apology the wrong way. He wished Sam or Dean were there. They usually helped him in social situations. Doing all he could think of doing, he moved his hand from the back of the chair to Delilah's shoulder and ported them to Bobby's.

Delilah blinked. That's all she did. She blinked and then suddenly she was standing somewhere else. The fiery rage she had been in the process of releasing vanished as looked around in a panic. Castiel was standing beside her, rubbing his forehead and turning on his heel to walk in the opposite direction. Delilah was too confused and shocked to yell at him to come back. She was in a dingy old musty house, books and alcohol bottle lying around in various places, mostly on the surface of a desk in the centre of the room. The whole area was ridden with dust. She concluded then and there that this house belonged to a man who lived on his own. No sane woman could live in a place like this.

"Who the hell are you?"

A scruffy older man wearing a worn cap padded into the room with an open book in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. He dropped the book onto the floor and pulled a shotgun from behind one of the bookcases near him out at her. She held her hands up in defence; completely at lose at what the hell was going.

"Hold on Bobby, this is Delilah,"

She let her head fall back and look up at heaven, thanking god that Dean was back to stop her from being shot again. Behind him, Sam and Castiel filed in. Bobby put the shotgun down and looked at the boys, annoyed.

"You don't go bringin' strange girls into my house without warning me! You explain what's going on now or…"

He didn't continue, instead taking a gulp from his bottle and taking in a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. Delilah wasn't sure if he had 'apparated' as she thought suited his teleporting skill, or had just snuck up on her but she got a small fright when she realised Castiel had moved up behind her and was leaning down towards her ear to say something to her.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice almost vibrating in her ear. He had a great voice, she observed.

"No shit," she mumbled, sure that even he didn't hear her. Trying to forget about the annoying angel behind her, she brought her attention back to the Winchesters who were now discussing with Bobby who she was.

"…then Cas thought it was a bright idea to get a civilian involved," Dean had been saying, giving Castiel a scolding look.

Finally having enough of everyone knowing what was going on and her being in the dark, Delilah broke.

"Okay, I'm sorry but you all need to shut up and tell me what the hell is going on," and the FBI agent voice had emerged, "because you do not just zap people away and not explain where they are and _why._ Now first, explain to me why the hell _you," _she said, turning and pointing at Castiel, "did something to my ribs that hurt like a bitch and what it was, and then I want to know what the hell you're planning to do with me now that you've all ruined my life."

She was still looking up at Castiel, a scowl on her face. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Dean cracking a smile at Castiel's misfortune but it soon vanished when Delilah turned and sent him a death glare.

"Who wants to start then? Well?" she demanded. The rage that had been in the pit of her stomach was showing itself again. She was tired. She was hungry. She was confused. And on top of everything, she was angry and upset.

All the men in the room looked sheepish. It was obvious that they hadn't experienced the wrath of a pissed off woman in a while. The only way they knew how to deal with angry women was by chopping their heads off. That was not an option. Sam cleared his throat and looked in her direction but was in fact was looking at Castiel.

"Um, well I think you better ask Cas about the first one 'cos we've no idea why he gave you the sigil. We asked him when we got back here at first as well."

Sam gave Castiel a questioning look while Dean raised an eyebrow with curiosity. Castiel shifted uncomfortably on his feet and avoided eye contact with everyone.

"I would have preferred to speak about this to Delilah alone,"

"Well tough," Dean snapped, unfolding his arms. "Spit it out, Cas."

The angel took a rather large intake of breath as his eyes trailed to the floor.

"I couldn't let the other angels know of your existence. Upon our second meeting, I concluded that there was something very strange about you that I have never see in a human before. I believe you are a Nephilim; a child of God and man, an abomination by Heaven's standards. There has only been the discovery of few Nephilim over the last century and it has not ended well for any of them. There's only one I know of that currently still lives without Heaven's knowledge. She has been in deep hiding for years after many attempts on her life. Heaven does not permit such freaks of nature. Had another angel found you, you would have been dead before you had a chance to plead for your life."

Once again, Castiel found himself surprised to see how calm Delilah was reacting. She had closed her eyes shut gently and was breathing in and out, obviously trying to _stay_ calm. Bobby had seated himself down at his desk and now had his face in his hands, leaning against the wood. Dean had his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose; stress showing on his forehead, while Sam looked the least bothered of all of them. He stood there with his hands in his jacket pockets, eyebrows furrowed, thinking hard on the current situation. After a minute of silence, Delilah opened her eyes and looked up at Castiel.

"What comes with this-this…thing?"

Castiel frowned looking down at her, disappointed as to how she was referring to her gift.

"It's not a 'thing', it's your blood. You should be experiencing more strength, sometimes things wouldn't hurt as much, and you should be able to see that I look different than everyone else in the room. That I don't look human."

Delilah's eyes widened. She knew about the strength and durability; that's what made her excellent at the practical work of her job, what had gotten her through a tour in Afghanistan with flying colours. When she had really concentrated on it and wanted it, she seemed to have this inhuman strength that came from nowhere. She was efficient, hardly ever needed patching up and had more energy than everyone else in her squad. She had just accepted that maybe she was just really really tough. But the last part, the last part was the bit that shocked her.

When Delilah was a child, she would see people out of the corner of her eye. But they weren't normal people; they all would've had light surrounding them and large black shadows of wings at their sides. She used to go home after school and tell her mother how Ms Farrell in school was an angel, how Betty in the corner shop was too, and how the man who always sat outside their house in the morning on one of the park benches reading a newspaper, was as well. It had gotten to the stage that her parents thought she was becoming delusional, and in hope of putting a stop to it before she got to an age where she would be bullied for believing silly things like that, they brought her to the local psychologist. By the time she was ten she just gave up and started denying that she was seeing them, that they had gone away. But they never did. She learned to live with it and ignore it; not to flinch whenever someone with wings walked by. And she had gotten better at it over the years. Now she was being told that they were real.

"You mean… All those I saw… Were angels?"

Castiel frowned again, looking down at her concerned.

"You saw them?"

She nodded, forgetting about everyone else in the room, more absorbed in this discussion.

"There were so many when I was younger... My school teacher, my old babysitter… Then they kind of eased off for a bit, only popping up now and again."

Castiel looked extremely troubled, like a world war was going on in his head. Eventually after a minute of looking down at the ground, he looked into her eyes.

"Why did you know someone who sat on babies?" he asked seriously.

She looked at him blankly, so unsure how to process this line that she didn't even laugh, even though she heard Sam and Dean chuckling in the background and a mumbled, 'ijit,' from Bobby.

"Why are they laughing?" Castiel asked, looking upset that he was missing out on the joke.

She shook her head and sighed.

"I need a drink."


	3. In Which Cats Fly

_**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, favs and follows guys! You brighten my day :) enjoy!**_

* * *

She sat there cradling her bottle of beer solemnly, wondering how everything became such a mess. Why did this happen to her? Why did _she _have to be this... half human, half angel thing. An abomination, Castiel had called her. She always knew she was a bit of a freak but an _abomination?_ Wasn't that a _little _harsh? Apparently Dean though that too by the look on his face while the angel explained the situation, and the eye roll that was made in his direction. Castiel obviously had no tact. And surprisingly, absolutely no common sense about human behaviour. One would think, that after observing humanity for as long as he had, or at least as he claimed, he would have learned a thing or two.

"You must stay here in safety until I understand how to handle this situation, Delilah." he was saying, Delilah barely hearing him while she was stuck in her thoughts. "I do not hold the same opinion as the rest of the angels, which unfortunately is that all Nephilim must be destroyed. However I will _not _let this happen to you. You have my word."

Dean's eyebrows shot up and he blinked rapidly and a smile tugged at Sam's lips.

"Jeez, Cas. Since when did something outside of stopping the apocalypse actually matter to you?"

The angel turned to Dean with a scowl on his face, shocking Delilah a little with his annoyed tone. "This _matters _Dean, because of what they would do to her. You have _no _idea the torture they would put her through, simply because of her existence. You couldn't even comprehend it; it would be worse than what you suffered through in hell. And it _matters _to _me_, because she is still one of us. She has the blood of my kin within her veins and therefore is mine to protect." He paused to let out a sigh and dropped his shoulders as he looked at the ground, his eyebrows furrowing together more than usual. "I am not as cold hearted as you take me for, Dean."

Dean was slightly stunned at the usual calm angel and shared a look with Bobby, who shook his head and took his hat off, flopping it down onto his desk in front of him. Meanwhile, Delilah watched Castiel from her seat in the corner of the room against the bookshelves. No one had ever show that much care for her like that, especially someone she didn't even know. At that moment, Delilah respected Castiel, and almost felt a weird sense of trust.

"Thank you, Castiel. But... what about my friends and family? What do I tell them? I'm probably wanted by the FBI now, by my co-workers. How do I, uh, _not _get arrested?"

Castiel's face was blank, an image that made Delilah want to laugh. He looked completely stumped, and even looked a bit uncomfortable.

"I, um... That is not my area of expertise." he said awkwardly, eyes sliding over to Sam and Dean, who stood in the doorway. _Area of expertise? _

"Don't worry, Cas." Dean cut in, giving the angel a grin. "We'll take care of that. You just go... find stuff out and do whatever you can for Delilah."

Castiel nodded, and with one small glance at Delilah, disappeared. She had to blink a few times, still finding it difficult to register that this socially awkward guy was an actual, real _angel_. And she was still finding it difficult to understand all these demonic events, supernatural occurrences, had been happening right under their noses and nobody had noticed. What good was the FBI for this? Isn't this the type of thing the FBI should have been investigating? Protecting the states and the country? Everyone always assumed there was a division that dealt with these supernatural things like in The X-Files, but to Delilah's greatest knowledge, there was no such thing. _Surely, _at some stage over the years, the Bureau would have come across the supernatural and actually taken action.

Delilah began to feel a little bit annoyed. It wasn't right, that Sam and Dean and many others had to give up their lives of normality to defend the world from these things; to risk their lives even though they hadn't signed up for it. Just because they had been dragged into it by a tragedy that the law enforcement couldn't manage. It wasn't right. Sam seemed to be a bright young man, someone who could have achieved greatly in college; someone she could see plucking up to urge to propose to his girlfriend and living a white picket fence life. And despite Dean's tough exterior, just by watching his interactions with his younger brother, she could tell he could have had so much more in life as well. She could see him married with kids. Delilah reckoned he would be a great father.

But they wouldn't get that. Why? Because they were too busy saving the world from the apocalypse and the creatures that go bump in the night.

"Delilah? Hello-o?"

She broke away from her thoughts when she realised that Sam had been talking to her about something.

"Sorry, what?"

"When Cas gets back we can pick up your stuff from your apartment. You, uh, might be staying here for a while. Sorry." He gave her a weak, apologetic smile and clapped her on the shoulder. She sighed and stood up "Okay then. So where will I be able to put my cat's water and food dishes?"

Sam grinned, biting his lip and turned on his heel to face Bobby, whom was looking at the agent as if she had four heads. "Your _what?_"

Bobby didn't like cats.

* * *

Delilah spent the next two hours scouting out the house and the scrap yard out back, and met Bobby's dog Max. He was a gentle old soul, drool dripping down onto the pavement as he wagged his massive tail back and forth. She didn't have to worry about him and Luci getting on. The cat would scare the poor dog away with just one look.

When she left to go sit on the porch, anxiously waiting for the angel to return, Sam approached her and sat down beside her on the other old rocking chair. He handed her a cool bottle and sat back with his foot on his knee.

"Weird weather for this time of year, huh?" he said casually, nodding towards the sun that was glaring down at him. It was no longer chilly, but instead almost shorts weather, jeans being too heavy for the heat that was radiating down on them.

"Side effect of the end of the world?" she replied taking a sip, leaning back and closing her eyes. The sun was making her inconveniently tired. Or maybe it was the madness of the last twenty four hours.

Sam snorted a laugh, and looked over at her with a friendly smile. "This must be crazy for you. I mean; angels, demons, the devil. I'm really sorry your life has been taken away from you. But I suppose it was going to happen sooner or later, Ms Nephilim." He gave her a quick wink, trying to brighten up the mood, and succeeded in waking Delilah up slightly.

"You know, it's funny really," she began, crossing her legs and turning in her seat slightly so she could face Sam a bit more. "I always believed in these kind of things. Like, my friend Rachael and I, when we were in college, we turned into those type of paranoid girls who carried around rosary beads and holy water in our handbags. It even went so far that we got these tattoos one night. Saw them in a book we were engrossed in once and decided, well hey! Let's be really thorough and make sure we don't get possessed by an evil spirit! Ooooh! I'm sure it's some made up mumbo jumbo and you'll probably laugh if you saw it. But yeah, I'm not particularly surprised this is all happening. Never thought _I'd _be a part of the supernatural though, you know? Just... living my whole life, not really fitting in but trying. Always knew I was a freak but never thought like... an actual freak of nature."

Sam listened intently, frowning sadly towards the end, full of pity. Déjà vu was hitting him. He knew how she felt, even if it was to do with angels and not demons. Angels were pricks too.

"I get it. I really do. I was- am the same. Just ask Dean. Never fit in when I was younger, during the time we actually spent in school. And then just one day... I found out I was something I didn't think I was. A freak of nature. An abomination. So yeah, I do get it. You've just gotta... make the most of it. Embrace it. Can I actually see your tattoo? I'm just a little curious."

Delilah had been staring at him, feeling a little less like an outsider. She didn't know Sam's story but she could tell he felt the same. Blushing, she nodded at his request, and leaned down to pull up the material of the bottom of the left leg of her work pants. On her ankle, she had the same anti- demonic possession tattoo that Sam and Dean had, and Sam's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Oh god, don't tell me it means something stupid like penis in demonic language or something."

Sam let out a laugh at the fear on her face and shook his head, placing his hand on her own to push the trouser leg back down.

"You'll be delighted to know, that is, in fact, an anti- demonic possession symbol. You're almost part of the gang already."

"No offence but I'm not sure I particularly _want _to be a part of your gang, Sam. But I suppose I don't really have much of a choice now, do I?"

"Nope, not really. So... do you want to catch up on the apocalypse news? Might help you keep up with what we're talking about."

Half an hour later, Castiel finally reappeared. Sam and Delilah were still talking on the front porch of Bobby's, Sam now telling her about Ruby and his slight addiction. He felt that she should know about everything now. It wasn't fair on her to leave her in the dark. She needed to know she wasn't alone in the crazy world that is the supernatural.

"Dean said you need to get some things from your apartment."

Delilah jumped when the angel reappeared behind her, standing so close that his trench coat brushed against her chair and her shoulder. "Fuck, Castiel! Personal space please!" He frowned and looked down to the ground to inspect how far he was from the back of her chair and took a robotic step back. "Oh. My apologies."

Delilah rolled her eyes and stood up with her hands on her hips. "Ready to go then? Also...um. Could we drop in to my parent's house? I just want to... I don't know. Let them know I'm okay and that I'm not a criminal." There was a pause of thirty seconds, in which Castiel didn't reply and instead stared at her. She raised an eyebrow and smirked, watching as squinted his eyes, looking into her own with fascination.

"Castiel?"

He jolted out of his trance and looked away awkwardly, trying to avoid his eyes wandering anywhere near her. "My, uh, apologies. You, um, look strange." Delilah noticed Sam mouthing 'don't say that!' towards Castiel, who was frowning at the tall man in return. "Uh, not in a negative way. You are actually quite enjoyable to look at." Sam gave up, shaking his head and smiling hopelessly at the angel, who was currently glowing bright red and looking flustered.

Delilah looked over her shoulder at Sam and snickered. "How often does he interact with women?"

"Never," That explained a lot.

"Okay then," she began again, "Let's go, fluffy."

* * *

"So, can I ask you something?" Delilah asked as she threw clothes from her wardrobe onto her bed. The feds were outside but obviously hadn't seen the nephilim and angel teleport into the apartment.

"Yes, of course," Castiel replied. He stood there by her bed, watching her as her clothes flew past him, soaring right past his head.

"If I'm... half human, half angel... Does that mean my mom or dad is an angel? 'Cos I mean, neither of them were particularly religious. And if one of them was an angel, why did they send me to a psychologist when I told them about how I saw other angels? Shouldn't I have seen _them_ as their true form?"

There was a pause of silence before Castiel replied.

"Neither of your parents were angels. I believe in your case, it was your great-great grandfather. The gene takes years to develop fully, so perhaps you are the final product."

"Oh... Well that's nice to know. And do I... have wings? Like you do? They're- they're beautiful." She blushed as she spoke, letting her hair fall into her eyes as she started loading her shoes into boxes.

"No, you do not."

She felt a wave of disappoint fall over her as she took a moment to rest her arms. Castiel's wings were incredible to look at. Black in colour and each wing stretching metres long. As he stood there, watching her, his wings folded inwards; giving the impression that they weren't at all that big, and that they were wrapped around him like a blanket. He acted like they weren't even there; as if he wasn't walking around with feathers on his back. Delilah wondered what he looked like to everyone else. Just a simple, boring man in a trench coat, with no light in him. They couldn't see his power, couldn't see his holiness. No wonder Dean underestimated him so much.

"You do however, have a visible halo."

Castiel's voice gave her a shock and her eyes widened as she turned to look at him. He was staring at her _again_, looking like he was concentrating extremely hard. His eyes were hovering over her head, and when Delilah glanced at them, she swore she could see the reflection of a bright light in them. She had a halo. She had a _halo_.

Clearing her throat, she turned back to the boxes on her bed and picked Lucifer up in her arms from his nest in her duvet. She swore she saw the angel narrowing his eyes at the cat, and the cat glaring back.

"You can bring us back now. And then we can go see my family, right?"

He didn't even look away from the cat that was now perched on her shoulder as he nodded and lifted a hand to touch her arm. She blinked and they were back in Bobby's study, along with her boxes that were now dumped in the middle of the floor. Lucifer yowled, dug his claws into Delilah's skin and launched himself off her shoulder and onto the desk where Bobby was snoozing.

"GODDAMNIT, GET THAT FRIGGEN CAT AWAY FROM ME!"

Delilah snorted as Bobby fell backwards out of his chair and onto the floor, while her black cat sat up on top of the pages of the book Bobby had been reading, looking incredibly smug. Castiel was still glaring at him.

"I'm so sorry, Bobby!" she said, laughing as she tried to help the man off the ground.

"That creature is possessed by evil, Delilah." Castiel said sternly, continuing his staring match with the feline. "No, Castiel. He's a cat. All cats are evil. It's just the way he is."

* * *

When Bobby was back on his feet and seated down at his desk in front of the cat again, Castiel didn't even give Delilah a warning before zapping them both to her parent's home in Louisiana.

"Please tell me before you do that again," she said quietly, feeling slightly nauseous.

"Sorry."

She stared at the front door, and looked side to side to see if their neighbours were about. Taking in a deep breath, she knocked on the door. There was a few moments before the door opened; Delilah spent them praying it would go well and then laughing to herself because she was praying with an _angel _right beside her. And apparently God didn't care anymore anyway.

"Lilah?"

Delilah's mother stood in front of them, shock flashing across her face, before she leaned forward and pulled her daughter into a hug. _"Watashi no utsukushi musume, watashi no kodomo!" _

Delilah stood stiffly, patting her mother on the back as the older woman cried into her hair. She swore to herself as she felt tears welling up in her own eyes. _"Gomen'nasai,_ mama," she whispered quietly,letting the tears fall. Their embrace was interrupted when her father came to the door and spotted her and Castiel.

"Delilah, what the _hell _is going on?" Kenichi obviously wasn't as patient as his wife. His face was strangely pale, and his forehead had creases of worry.

"Dad," Delilah started, pulling out of her mother's arms. "I swear to you, I am _not _a criminal. The Bureau has this whole thing wrong. And I've... got some explaining to do. Because you won't... you won't be seeing me for a while after this."

Delilah sat at her old kitchen table with Castiel at her side, who was awkwardly sitting straight in his chair with his arms hanging down by his sides still. The guy couldn't even sit in a chair right. Her mother sat quietly in the corner, staying out of the conversation as she assumed Castiel didn't have any Japanese. She still hadn't mastered English yet, even with Delilah's father helping. And her father was standing up, leaning against the kitchen counter and glaring at Castiel.

"Okay so... I'm not sure how I should start this," she said, her breathing shaky and uneven. There was no way she was going to lie her way out of this but how the hell was she supposed to explain it? "Well, I'm _pretty_ sure you've heard about the last case I was on seeing as my face is now on the wanted list beside the Winchester Brothers. So, um... they weren't guilty. They were trying to help. So I stalled for them. And then I got caught helping them and that's... how this all started. Uh, I don't know if you'll believe the rest of this but I swear it's true. This is, um, Castiel. He's, eh, not particularly human."

Her dad spluttered a laugh with his eyebrows high. "Oh, so he's not human? Then _what the hell is he, Lilah?_ Stop with this nonsense and own up to what you've done!" Castiel stood up quickly, and glowered at Kenichi intensely. "I am an angel of the Lord. And you would do well to believe your daughter's claims, Kenichi Sato. It is _your _genes that have resulted in her fate as a nephilim, and if you so much as threaten her, I am afraid I will have to remove you from her life."

Delilah gaped at the angel beside her, just as her father looked; both gobsmacked at Castiel's words. "Cas, that's not really-" He turned to her and cut her off. "You can _not _have attention brought to you, Delilah! If your father draws other angels' eyes upon you, you will be detected and slaughtered. Your angelic traits can_not_ be spoken of outside of this room or they _will_ find you. So if removing your father's memories of you will refrain him from proclaiming your existence to the world then it will be done!"

There was silence in the room. Mai, Delilah's mother looked frightened. She had no idea what was being said and could only judge the conversation by the tone of voices. Kenichi was rubbing his jaw with the palm of his hand, trying to wrap his head around the apparent 'seriousness' of this situation. Delilah reached up to Castiel's arm and tugged him by the sleeve back down into his chair. "Cas... Give him a minute. Let him react like a normal person." The angel complied, and calmly helped Delilah explain what was going as much as he could.

He remembered times when he sat in on Sam and Dean explaining the supernatural to people and he realised he shouldn't have reacted the way he did to Delilah's father. But Delilah was his responsiblity. He was the only one that could keep her safe. She deserved the right to live as much as he did. He wasn't sure why, but there was something about the nephilim that was familiar, something other than their shared blood. And Castiel wanted her to live long enough for him to find out what that was.


	4. In Which A Nephilm Draws A Blade

_**A/N: Sorry for the crappiness of this chapter. Still trying to get lots of things established before I can get into the storyline, which will have both canon and original content. Thanks for the reviews, favs and follows. Enjoy and pop a little something down in the review box to let me know what you think.**_

* * *

Sam and Dean were long gone by the time Delilah and Castiel returned to Bobby's. She wasn't going to lie, she felt better when they were there. It meant she'd have people to keep her occupied; she'd have Sam. She'd grown attached to Sam. It wasn't that she didn't like Dean, she just hadn't had the opportunity to talk with him at all. It even seemed like he was avoiding her.

This was what she was thinking about while sitting down at the small kitchen table with Bobby, eating their chicken dinner slowly. Well, _she _was eating slowly, whereas Bobby was shovelling the food into his mouth. They didn't talk much; Bobby was still trying to get used to her, a _woman_, and Delilah didn't even know what to say to spark conversation with him. _'Oh hey, Bobby. So you kill supernatural things for a living? Tell me a fun story about your adventures!' _ She didn't know this guy, and maybe she didn't trust him. She wasn't sure yet. The only people she felt she could trust at the moment were Sam and Castiel. Dean irked her a little, rubbed her the wrong way.

"So, girl. You're gonna be livin' here for a while then. Funny how everyone gets dumped with me. I'm gonna warn you, the house is a little unkept."

She raised her eyebrow and grinned at him. "A _little_? Sorry, Bobby. I'm going to have to dust a bit in here. I'm asthmatic and I don't particularly want to wake up not breathing."

"You're asthmatic? But you're friggen angelic. Can you even get sick? Cas ain't got anything like that."

"You're missing the fact that I'm only half angelic, dumbass."

Bobby narrowed his eyes and lifted his hand that held his fork and pointed a finger at her. "You mind that tongue of yours, missy. The boys are bad enough." She was sure he didn't think she was looking at him, but she caught him smiling a little as he cut up his potatoes.

"So you're asthmatic, an FBI agent; I would say you owned Satan but unfortunately we actually _know_ Satan and he hasn't got a patch on that evil cat of yours. If I'm gonna have you under my roof I want to know more 'bout you. Spill."

She smiled and pushed back her empty plate, leaning back into her squeaky chair. "Well, I'm in the Violent Crimes and Major Theft division with the Bureau. Well, was. The Winchesters were famous in my office, you know. I was so excited when I found out I was on their case." She coughed awkwardly when she noticed Bobby looking at her strangely. "But yeah. Been there for five years. Did a tour in Afghanistan before that. I actually wanted to be an artist when I was growing up but that seemed a bit unrealistic. My mother is an artist. She teaches it to kids, even without English. Sometimes, yea know... the art does the explaining."

"Your ma doesn't speak English?"

She shook her head. "No, she grew up in Japan. My dad is Japanese American, from Louisiana. Got the accent and everything. But he's got fluent Japanese and so do I. It's hard for her. Sometimes she feels lonely. But yeah... That's my family."

"Okay, but I want to know more about you, not your parents. Your parents aren't the ones who have the opportunity to slit my throat in my sleep."

Wow, Delilah thought. What a lovely guy. "Well... I dunno. What else is there to tell? I've got a couple of good friends, n-no boyfriend or anything like that..."

Bobby noticed her stutter and sighed, sliding his plate to the side and clasping his hands together on the table in front of him. "You've got issues, I can tell. Maybe sometime you can go all touchy feely with Sam, get it out of your system. But I ain't good with that type of stuff. I can... hug if that helps."

Delilah laughed at the look on Bobby's face; a look of discomfort and awkwardness. "Don't worry, Bobby. I won't go all sappy on you. I've got issues but I can deal just fine."

"Good!" he exclaimed happily, slapping a hand down on the table and getting up. "Wanna beer?"

* * *

She rooted out her painting supplies out of her boxes later that week. At the time she felt stupid for bringing things like her paint and her easel with her when Castiel brought her back to her apartment, but she was glad she had them now. Bobby had set her up in one of his spare rooms upstairs, and told her she could take the attic for her painting space. He, of course, had rolled his eyes when she asked where she could put her supplies, muttering about 'goddamn artsy people'. But the place was perfect.

Yes, it was musty and full of cobwebs and dust, but Delilah spent a whole day cleaning it up and _now_ it was just perfect. She even asked Bobby if she could give it a new coat of paint, as the pale green colour was now flaking and peeling off the wall. She had the walls looking brand new, with the white paint brightening up the whole room. The only light that came into the room was from the two roof windows, and was now reflected off the white walls and the wooden ceiling to reach every corner of the room. It didn't even need lights during the day anymore. She had to refrain from painting designs on the blank wall; it looked like a new sheet of paper just begging to be filled. But she knew Bobby probably wouldn't appreciate her doodling on his walls.

It was a week and a half after being pulled into the supernatural mix, when she finally had the room ready to be used and was able to set up her tools. Tying her long black hair up into a high ponytail and securing her full fringe back out of her eyes with a red bandana, she rolled up the sleeves of her black shirt up to her elbows and started to mix her paint. She wasn't sure what exactly she was going to paint, usually it just came to her. But she would always deliberately pick particular colours to suit her mood. Today, she was feeling the colours black, blue and purple. Of course they would be different shades but they were going to be her bases. Dipping her brush into the jet black paint, she began to move it back and forth across her rectangular canvas gently, paying very close attention to small details.

It was two hours later when she was finally disturbed.

"Delilah."

She jumped, almost dropping the now turquoise brush onto the floor. With her shoulders raised stiffly, she turned to see Castiel standing behind her, brows furrowed as usual.

"Castiel, I would prefer if you _didn't _sneak up on me when I'm in the middle of something like this."

But he seemed to ignore her, and instead of replying, took a step forward to take a closer look at her painting. "This an intriguing piece of art."

Delilah watched him examine it, fascinated at the way the angel was looking at it. It was like he was trying to pinpoint ever small detail she had made, as if he was reading a book. "Why did you paint me?"

She paused, feeling like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. She hadn't realised she was specifically painting _him_. It just... came to her. She took a small step back to look at it properly herself and took in what she had created. "Oh my god, it _is _you."

Castiel turned his head to look at her, confusion showing in his eyes. "How did you paint me and not realise it?"

Delilah was stumped. She had no idea. She usually just put the brush to paper, or canvas, and her creative juices just kicked it. She just let her hand go wherever it wanted; to whatever colour on her palette. Never once had she drawn something familiar; _someone_ familiar.

"Um... I don't know. Can... this type of thing come with being angelic?"

Castiel was concentrating hard, staring at the ground and racking his knowledge for answers. "Perhaps. Sometimes certain angels gain talents. My brother, Gabriel, has the talent of mischief. He can create chaos as would the god Loki. Not all angels can do that. Do these paintings ever show you premonitions of events? Do you paint scenes that are yet to happen?"

Delilah thought back on her old paintings. There was one of a flower in a girl's hand, a ship on a stormy sea, an old man sitting on a bench in a park. These were just a few and none of them had relevance to her life. "No, I don't think so. They're usually just landscapes. I never usually paint portraits... especially in this much detail."

The detail she was referring to was the expression on Castiel's face in the painting. She had used dark shades of blue and purple, and streaks of black to paint a picture of the angel standing in the rain, looking up at the sky. The rain in the painting was streaming down his face; his hair was wet and a tear was falling down his cheek. But the expression was almost heartbreaking. He looked lost, torn, ripped apart. He looked like he had lost his most prized possession, like he had suffered the worst of all tragedies.

Delilah didn't notice a tear fall down her own cheek as she stared at the painting, but it caught the angel's eye. He frowned and moved his hand to move the tear away with his thumb, but Delilah stopped him by grabbing his wrist and pulling it away. "Why are you here, Castiel?" The tone she had used almost felt like a sting and Castiel wasn't sure why. Had he upset her somehow? Was he the reason why she was crying?

"I'm here to teach you defence against angels. I cannot be here at all times to protect you."

"Did I _ask_ for you to be here to protect me?"

Delilah regretted her snarky comment immediately. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be ungrateful; it was wrong of me to say that. Thanks, Cas. I'd appreciate it."

* * *

It was an outrageously warm day outside in Bobby's scrap yard. As she followed the angel out into the cleared dusty area, Delilah contemplated running back inside and changing into something lighter than her cuffed black shirt, jeans and laced up boots. Instead, she decided to deal with the heat.

"So what-" she began before ducking down away from Castiel's fist that he had swung towards her out of the blue. Even after she ducked and came back up, he tried again, and this time, just before his knuckles came near her nose, she caught his fist in her own and tried to push it back with as much force as she could muster. Once the angel was satisfied that she had reacted well, he dropped his arm and continued walking further into the clearing.

"What the _hell_, Cas?" she yelled at him, charging up behind him. He stopped and turned to face her; his face calm and serene as always. "I wanted to see what your reactions were like. Strangely, your reflexes are up to par. I would have expected you to need at least a small amount of training with hand to hand. Perhaps it's the strain of the gene you have-"

"No, Castiel. It's called FBI training. Anybody with that training could have done that. Not all my assets come from my angel hoodoo crap." She had her arms folded, feeling slightly annoyed again with the angel. Meanwhile, he glowered at her.

"I'm sorry, Delilah. I just based my assumptions on the rest of the human race. I didn't expect a woman to be skilled like that. It seems I've underestimated you. We will start with sword play then."

"_Sword play?_"

"Yes. Angels wield daggers, which resemble a short sword. They are one of the only things that can kill an angel, including you. So I will teach you how to block and defend, and then to strike. Unless... you learnt that too, in your FBI training?"

Delilah opened her mouth to make a come back but closed it again. Did he just use _sarcasm_? He obviously took her silence as a no, and promptly let a silver blade slip down into his hand from his sleeve. "This is an angel blade. Every angel possesses one, expect of course, you. I will acquire one for you at another time. But for now, we will use these plain blades."

Two battered up looking, old long knives appeared on the ground in front of her feet, and when she looked up, Castiel's angelic blade was gone. He summoned both knives into his hands and then threw one over to Delilah. She caught it by its hilt and tossed it back and forth to each hand.

"An angel will nearly always come at you with their blade by surprise. Therefore, you must hone your reflexes and instincts to your blade. If I came at you the way I did before, but instead of my fist it was a blade in my hand, how would you have deflected it?"

Delilah stared at the metal in her hand and then visualised Castiel's attack again. "I would grab your wrist, twist it and stab you while your hand with your weapon is busy being in pain." Castiel raised his eyes, as if he was counting in his head, and then slowly looked back down at Delilah. "That plan would work. To some extent. However, there are other ways that ensure your opponent's demise."

* * *

Castiel spent a good hour and a half outside with Delilah; showing her different techniques that other angels wouldn't see coming, and ways of hitting their weak spots. Delilah wasn't going to try and joke herself into thinking she wasn't tired after it. She _was._ It was hard work keeping up with Castiel, and no matter how much other training she had gone through, this was still the most difficult. Average criminals didn't have angel strength like Castiel. And Castiel wasn't holding back his strength during their sparring.

When Castiel finally called it a day in his much more fancier words, Delilah grabbed onto his arm before he could teleport away. "Why don't we go for ice-cream, Cas?"

He looked at her confused and raised a brow. "I don't require sustenance." Delilah rolled her eyes and sighed. She didn't want there to just be tension in this relationship her and Castiel had going on, whatever it was. It didn't have to just be him protecting and teaching and all that jazz. Couldn't they be friends too?

"I don't mean for hunger. Are you not really hot after all this?" He barely twitched. "Oh, come on. Have you even ever _had _ice-cream before?" Another twitch. "Come on, Cas. Let's call this our do over, our restart. If you're going to be floating around me all the time the least you could do is let me get to know you, so we can be friends. Having a friend watch over you is a lot less creepier than a random angel who you barely talk to."

This time, Castiel didn't twitch. Instead he stood, pondering on the whole 'friendship' thing. He never thought friends were necessary before, but he knew that having Dean as a friend had changed him; changed him for the better. Maybe having Delilah as a friend would change him in ways as well.

"Okay."


	5. In Which There Is A Trip To South Africa

_**A/N: Reeeally sorry this is a short one. Thanks for the reviews and what not as usual. You all make me smile :) **_

* * *

"I said an ice-cream parlour, Cas. Where the hell are we?"

"Cape Town, South Africa."

Delilah turned and craned her neck up so she could see Castiel's face, squinting as the sun glared at her. "And why is it that we're in South Africa exactly?"

"There's an ice-cream parlour here."

She couldn't hold the laughter in. It was all so ridiculous and he never saw anything wrong with it. Shaking her head in disbelief as she laughed, she let her eyes roam around the area, taking in the foreign environment. She never noticed Castiel behind her, watching her as she gawked in awe at the new place, and most certainly wasn't aware of the small smile that pulled at the angel's lips. He hadn't seen Delilah smile properly before. He'd heard her laugh at jokes but he had never seen her laugh so naturally. Nothing about her smile was forced, she was genuinely happy. And that pleased Castiel. The least he could do for her was to make her happy for a brief moment. After all, she did just have her life taken away.

"Come on, come on! The shop's over there!" she practically squealed with glee, latching her hand onto the sleeve of Castiel's trench coat and tugging him in the direction of the busy parlour.

Castiel wasn't quite sure what was so amazing about this place; it seemed like a city, just like the ones in America. But Delilah took it all in as they crossed the road; her nose up in the air, as if the place _smelled_ different than America. Maybe it _was_ different, but Castiel could never tell. He'd seen all these places before so many times that he sometimes found it difficult to even differentiate between countries.

They barely dodged a little red car that zipped up the road at a ridiculous speed, and when they came to the door of the shop, even the angel was breathing deeply. "Was that necessary?" he grumbled as he attempted to straighten his normally wonky tie, while Delilah went ahead towards the large counter displaying the different flavours.

"Oh, wow. Cas, look at all these flavours! How am I supposed to choose? They have a hot cross bun flavoured ice-cream. Whaaat? Sweet potato and toasted marshmallow? I gotta say, they've got a weird-"

"What is marshmallow?"

She stopped and stared at him, silent suddenly, with her mouth gaping. "Of _course_. You've never had marshmallows before. Well, I know what flavour you're getting."

Castiel didn't seem to have a choice in the matter as Delilah went ahead and ordered, which was when a thought occurred to him. They had no money. Before she was finished at the counter, he zapped away.

"Hey, Cas? You got any-" When she turned to see him gone, her heart stopped. Did that _bastard _just ditch her in _South Africa?_ "Oh, I am going to-" But before she could finish, he was back with some bills in his hand. Without even looking at her, he leaned over and handed the man at the counter all the paper money. "I believe that should cover our purchases."

Delilah watched as the man's eyes grew wide as he stared at the stack of money now placed before him. Slightly in shock, he handed the two cones to Delilah, without looking away from his stash. She awkwardly smiled and let out a quite 'thanks' and then walked away quickly with Castiel at her heels.

"_Castiel!_ Where did you get that money?" she gasped as she moved briskly away from the shop and over towards a bench by the road.

"The bank down the street. Do you think it was enough?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed with worry.

"_Enough?_ Cas, you paid that guy like, ten times the amount you were supposed to. Did you not _see _his face?"

He was quiet as they sat down, Delilah still awaiting an answer. "I wasn't looking at him. I was looking at you."

She wasn't expecting that. She looked down, blushing furiously and almost shoved Castiel's cone into his face. "This is yours. Eat it, experience it, love it." She watched him take it from her hand and inspect it thoroughly. She licked the top scoop of her own vanilla apple crumble cone, while the angel contemplated how to go about eating his own. He seemed a bit daunted by the three scoops of pure marshmallow ice-cream sitting on the waffle cone, and a look of panic flashed across his face when he felt a drop of it melt onto his hand. Delilah almost choked when he finally went for it, taking a large _bite_ out of the top scoop. His face went into shock, obviously not expecting the brain freeze that goes with _eating _ice-cream. He swallowed and glared at the cone in his hand.

"That was incredibly unpleasant, Delilah."

She rolled her eyes and nudged him in the ribs with her elbow to get his attention. "You're not doing it right. You can't really taste it properly if you just go and chomp on it. You have to lick it. Like I've been doing." Half of her own was already gone. "You need to savor it, like this." She leaned closer towards him and licked the top of his ice-cream, closing her eyes with the delight of the taste of marshmallow, and then grinned at him. "Like that. Go on. Do it. Lick the damn thing."

He gulped, looked to her, and then back to the cone. Taking a breath, he hesitantly licked the ice-cream. His eyes widened as he jerked his head back and looked back at Delilah, looking like a deer caught in headlights. "This is very, very pleasant. I regret what I said. I like this flavour. Are there other mashmallow things?"

"_Marsh._ And yeah, marshmallows are candy. I'll buy some when we get back if you want. They're soft and fluffy. But do _not _eat too many or you'll get sick."

"I don't get sick."

"If _anything _is ever going to make an angel sick, it'll be marshmallows. Mark my words."

* * *

When Castiel had finished his cone, nearly five minutes after Delilah was done, he zapped them back to Bobby's. It was a weird feeling, going from one continent to another in the space of a few seconds. Delilah even felt a little dizzy. Castiel stood awkwardly in front of her in the scrap yard, unsure what exactly he was supposed to say next.

"The hell were you two?" Bobby emerged from the house, staring down the angel with judgemental eyes. "You've been gone hours!"

Delilah looked up at Castiel's face and had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. "South Africa." Bobby looked at them, baffled. "South- Oh, jesus. Never mind. I'm not going to ask. Cas, is that ice-cream on your face?"

Delilah had never noticed it, but there was in fact a blotch of her green vanilla apple crumble ice-cream on his chin, possibly from when she let him taste hers. She just couldn't deal with the hilarity of the situation and broke out laughing in stitches, gasping for air and gripping her sides. Castiel didn't look particularly impressed as he wiped the dairy confectionary off his chin with the edge of his sleeve. Bobby rolled his eyes and sighed, muttering 'ijits' as he dragged himself back inside the dingy house.

"Can I assume you had an enjoyable evening then?"

Delilah looked up at him and smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, I did. Thanks, Cas. I think I feel better about you watching over me now."

"I'm sorry if I ever made you feel uncomfortable, Delilah. It was never my intention."

She paused, debating whether to ask him a question that had been on her mind for some time. "Castiel... I'm just... I'm just curious. I know you had that big spiel about why you want to protect me and all but... I'm getting the feeling there's more to it. Is there... something you're not telling me? Is there a reason why you're not just putting me in hiding like the other nephilim?"

He had been caught off guard by that question; a question that was still lingering in his mind as well. "I haven't lied to you, Delilah. But there is a... prophecy involving a nephilim that fits your profile. A prophecy that has been criticised and almost forgotten about since God has disappeared. A lot of angels don't agree with it; think it's a lie that our father has it written."

"And... what is the prophecy then? Shouldn't I be allowed to know, seeing as I'm part of it apparently?"

There was a very obvious pause from Castiel. He knew what it was, but he could not tell her. Not until he knew if it was real, and if she actually fit the role. He needed to know the rest of the details. "Unfortunately, I don't know what it is. I am working on it, but as always, the apocalypse and the fight against Lucifer remains a priority. I will try to keep you updated though."

Delilah nodded, half disappointed, half relieved. One part of her wanted to know what this prophecy was _now, _and then the other part of her was grateful for not being involved with one of heaven's crazy plans like Sam and Dean. At least not yet. When she looked back up from the ground he was gone.

He needed to find out what his father had planned, if _he_ was really involved in it as well. He needed to know how it would affect Delilah and her life, if it would destroy her like so many of heaven's other plans do to people. He needed to know she would be safe.


End file.
